


Request Pending

by Kryptontease



Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mission Logs, POV First Person, Post-Mars, Sexting, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptontease/pseuds/Kryptontease
Summary: Mark Watney broke two ribs during the rescue. Not ideal, but not the worst possible outcome. It will take 211 days for theHermesto reach Earth. What does a man do when all he has is free time?
Relationships: Vincent Kapoor/Mark Watney
Comments: 24
Kudos: 60
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Request Pending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamlikedulcimer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamlikedulcimer/gifts).



> I've split the difference about what day Mark Watney is rescued on, since the film and the novel disagree about the timing of certain events. Where possible, I stick to the timeline that the movie provided. 
> 
> As for the "not rated" rating, I was unsure how to rate this fic based on the sexting. It's not really explicit, but the characters are clearly getting each other off. How to rate that without disappointing someone? Hopefully NR works! I had a blast writing for you. Hope you enjoy! :D

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

#### LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 690

It hasn't gotten any less weird seeing the new day count. Since Commander Lewis reeled me onto the Hermes three days ago, it's been a seismic reordering of time. On Hermes, logs and schedules are tracked by mission days. It may be Sol 562 down on Mars, but it's Mission Day 690 up here. That suits me just fine. Because you know what? It doesn't matter what time it is on Mars. _I'm not there!_

I'm really not on Mars anymore. I can tell because there's no gravity in my quarters and there are other humans around.

Scratch that. _Sometimes_ , there are other humans around.

This morning, I woke up in my quarters alone. I tried to grab the handle and swing myself out of the bunk like the crew bunks in the Hab.

When I couldn't move: I panicked. The first thing I remembered was how long ago I'd left the Hab.

What a shitty time to develop night terrors, I thought. I have to be at the top of my game to finish this 90-day trek. Three-quarter-rations and four-hour sleep shifts were difficult enough. Fighting the rover's short-term power supply across the terrain to Schiaparelli Crater was a singular task. No Hab maintenance, no science, no tracking mission parameters. No outside distractions. All of those tasks had been left behind with my mission calendar. It was just me and the endless Martian sky. A sky that clearly wasn't gray and white bulkheads.

Oh fuck.

I wasn't on Mars. _I'm not on Mars now._

Yeah, that was about the time I realized my body wasn't paralyzed by some misfiring central nervous system wiring; I couldn't move because someone had tied me down. Whoever was on Watney-wrasslin' duty did a NASA-approved job. The restraints had triple redundancies. If I wiggled free from one, two more held me in place. From the bunk, I couldn't reach the ship's intercom. Not even with my feet. Trust me, I tried. 

Twenty minutes later, Commander Lewis found me ass over teakettle. 

"Tangled up in a situation of your own making," the commander said. 

Beck had jury-rigged a harness to keep me motionless while I slept like the dead for two days straight. Beck's rationale was to keep me from popping my ribs from their compression bandage. The makeshift harness cut into my ribs and for a second I couldn't breathe. Awkward.

For the second time in as many days, the commander extracted me from mortal peril.

The way the good commander tells the story, Beck floated me to "sick bay" (Beck's quarters on Hermes) and he treated me for the two ribs that I broke during ascent. Like the roguishly handsome space pirate I am, I had asked for bottled water. I shook it up and sprayed it across sick bay like it was champagne and then passed out in the plume of droplets that hung in zero-g.

The relish with which Commander Lewis told me that she had signed off on the restraint made me certain that she enjoyed the thought of keeping me absolutely goddamn still, so I couldn't execute another brilliant idea without her approval.

She laughs at my jokes, but the commander looks haunted.

A gulf exists between her mission and mine.

It is absolutely not the crew's fault that I was left behind. I stress this over and over, in whatever form the question is put. Everyone's asked. School children. Reporters. The President. The answer is the same, with an increasing scale of _go fuck yourself for suggesting it's her fault_ if the asker comes back at me by phrasing the question in a different way.

I'll need to talk to her about it after I have a chance to request time on the communication station---huh.

I guess now that I'm onboard Hermes Actual, Mission Control has no reason to keep to the daily upload schedule we established 200 Sols ago.

I'm still adjusting.

If Johanssen can spare the time, I'll log in to my account just to see what's what.

\ \ v / /

[ _11:30_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. We received Johanssen's all clear. Welcome to the Hermes!  
.  
.  
.  
[ _11:10_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. Mission Control wants me to congratulate you on surviving your ordeal on Mars. Your rescue is great news. We'll send you some of the network coverage. It's been said that you're the most-watched man in the solar system.  
[ _11:55_ ] **JPL** : Beck sent word that you need to 'recuperate'. Rest up! And though I will need to say this again when you reach Earth: welcome home.  
[ _13:25_ ] **JPL** : I've sent an email with the footage attached in case you are interested.  
.  
.  
.  
[ _10:50_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. The flight director has authorized your entry to Hermes. Your schedule is cleared for 50 days. We'll revisit what duties and tasks you might be assigned after you've found your feet.  
[ _11:50_ ] **JPL** : Rest up.  
.  
.  
.  
[ _10:30_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. Our analysis of the flight data shows a completely successful gravity assist. _Hermes_ is back on track to Earth. We will see you in 208 days. What's your status?  
[ _11:48_ ] **HERMES** : Watney speaking. Two ribs broken. Minor cuts on my arms and legs. Had some issues waking up (I'll let the commander explain that in her daily briefing). Compression bandage on my midsection to let my ribs heal under their own power. I just woke up from two day's sleep.  
[ _12:03_ ] **JPL** : We didn't send supplies for major injuries on the _Hermes_. All of the major medical supplies were sent to the Hab. I'm going to instruct the flight director that we rethink our supply strategy for _Hermes_.  
[ _12:20_ ] **HERMES** : Updated supply strategy sounds good. How badly can you hurt yourself in zero-G that won't also kill you outright?  
[ _12:40_ ] **JPL** : We have some idea of that now.  
[ _12:56_ ] **HERMES** : Let me know if JPL comes up with a better immobilize-a-patient-in-zero-g system.  
[ _13:16_ ] **JPL** : Will do.  
[ _13:40_ ] **JPL** : I've emailed you with a document. When you have time, check it over and let me know what you think.  
[ _13:55_ ] **JPL** : Rest up.  


. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

  


#### LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 691

The punchline is that on Mars I had nothing but time. Now that I'm back on _Hermes_ , I've been put on administrative bed rest. Once again, I've got nothing but time here. 

That's going to create a problem soon. But, hey, there's a spare laptop. Oh, and I discovered a portable science console that can be floated down to my quarters. I start with the easy request (laptop). I will figure out how to wheedle the console from someone who isn't the commander in a few day's time. 

Holy crap! I can't believe how simple _email_ is.

Communications on _Hermes_ is pretty goddamn miraculous after communicating via a daisy chain of three hacked rovers. If I want to send an email, I just pull out the laptop and compose one. Then I push it to Johanssen who bundles it back to Earth when we're in the cone of Deep Space Network's coverage. Receiving it is the same. 

I have _a lot_ of email waiting for me when I log into my crew account. NASA must have tasked an entire department to vet the deluge. Most of it is short. 

YOU FUCKING MADE IT, MARK WATNEY, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD, I CAN'T WAIT TO TAKE YOU OUT FOR FIFTEEN BEERS WHEN YOU GET BACK, FUCKIN' A MAN, FUCKIN AMAZING.

Yeah, that was from a stranger. I am maybe taking them up on their offer though. Fifteen free beers! I don't think anyone has ever been this excited to meet me after they've been told I'm a botanist. Guess I'm also a dashing space pirate now, too, and that's a pretty unique honor to hold.

I save most of these emails for later. One or ten emails per day until we reach Earth should keep my spirits high during my _convalescence_.

One email catches my eye, and I float it to the top of my screen.

Mark, I've attached a list for you. _Pending Requests_ documents all of the requests that you made while you were on Mars. Please let us know how to prioritize fulfillment now that you are aboard _Hermes_.  
📎 NASA--Pending-Requests-for-Mark-Watney.xlsx  
\--Vincent Kapoor 

It's a long list. Which is surprising.

I got most of the things that I could receive from Mission Control without asking. Vincent figured out that I was headed for Pathfinder, and met me there. My first human contact in 90 Sols. He arranged for my mom to email me. Yeah, I said hi to her as maybe the fifth sentence out of my triple-rover text setup but the thought hadn't even formed in my head that I could ask her to contact _me_. And yet there it was waiting in the rover two weeks later. Email from Mom. Contact with someone who loved me and missed me and was just as determined to get me home as I was to get there.

A good portion of Requests Pending list are off-the-cuff remarks.

(You say a lot of things you don't mean when you're living on a planet that wants to kill you dead.)

I recognize a few of the conversations from context. Some of the desperation oozes through, and I think, yeah, I remember when I felt that miserable. When the hab decompressed and killed all of my potatoes. When I was freezing my ass off in the rover, before I'd figured out how to rig up the RTG for heat. But some of these comments are straight up mysterious. Parts of my memory must have been sandblasted clean by Martian storms.

Look at the first six items on the list:

> ⦾ I want to spend the rest of the day relaxing.  
>  ⦾ I have water, but not as much as I want.  
>  ⦾ A full meal for dinner would be fantastic.  
>  ⦾ Music. Any music. Digital entertainment? Something.  
>  ⦾ Can you tell the botany team to fuck off for me?  
>  ⦾ When facing death, a man just wants to be heard.  
> 

In other news, I need to make better requests. Maybe Vincent would be open to amending the list?

\ \ v / /

##### [System Time 21:59 HST :: MD 691]

Vincent, Would you be open to amending the list? I might have new ideas now that I'm aboard _Hermes_.  
\--Mark

Mark, I could be open to it. Do you have a preference for order of fulfillment?  
\--Vincent

Boy do I ever. But let me answer a question with a question. When will it be possible to arrange a video chat with the botany team?  
\--Mark

Mark, Request denied on the botany team video chat. The best I can do is pass along a photo. But I may be able to arrange a video conference with Mission Control when the transmission delay to _Hermes_ falls to under two minutes.  
\--Vincent

Uh, _all_ of mission control? The full team? That's...a change.  
\--Mark

Mark, it could just be me if you want to try something less challenging than a room full of, and I'm quoting here, 'ultra-smart NASA nerds'.  
\--Vincent

Yeah, okay. Let's start there.  
\--Mark

Mark, I've scheduled a video call for you on Mission Day 790. Is there anything you would like to be done sooner?  
\--Vincent

FULL RATIONS.  
\--Mark

Mark, we can do that ASAP. If it's not too soon to ask, NASA is requesting a photo for post-rescue moral building with the public. They want something uplifting. Something that shows your face. I told them I'd ask, but it's entirely up to you. Will keep fending off their requests if necessary.  
\--Vincent

One photo. Sure, no problem.  
\--Mark

Hey Vincent, will you continue contacting me at our scheduled time every day? I'm at loose ends without anything in my schedule.  
\--Mark

Mark, I had no plans to the contrary.  
\--Vincent

Yeah. Good. Okay. See you then.  
\--Mark

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 692 

Commander Lewis tethered me into the crew bunk again. The tether connects to a long lead so I can move around the cabin. Then I can clip into the harness when I want to sleep. When I fall asleep, I wake up with the urge to clean the solar cells. Dust doesn't adhere to surfaces in zero-G. Wiping down my quarters would be a waste of time. Ask me how I know!

I average one full rotation of my body every two hours.

Things aren't as bad as they seem. Vogel's noticed how haggard I look. A few more days of idleness, and the crew will shove that portable science console at me.

I'm not burning many calories in space. Muscles don't have to work against gravity outside of the centripedal section of _Hermes_. My body is in pretty dire shape. I've been living on three-quarter rations for 400 Sols. Wiping down removed some (according to Vogel, not all) of the smell. The sores and bruises and translucent patches on my skin are worrying. Not to me. To the people that are worried when they look at me.

Which means I'm going to have to pass on the Coppertone Girl photoshoot I had in mind. Vincent said _morale building_ not _panic inducing_.

\ \ v / /

[ _11:30_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. We've had a crew request to authorize you to use the portable SCI unit.  
[ _11:46_ ] **HERMES** : Hey Vincent. That would be great.  
[ _12:03_ ] **JPL** : I'll consult with the flight director. My feeling is Mitch will say yes if I ask in the right way. You'll go crazy with boredom.  
[ _12:19_ ] **HERMES** : Ayup.  
[ _12:35_ ] **JPL** : Mitch is worried about the public perception of _making_ you resume normal crew duties, but I'll tell him this is a much-needed return to normalcy.  
[ _12:37_ ] **JPL** : I've authorized your first request. Enjoy with my compliments.  
[ _12:53_ ] **HERMES** : Aww shucks. And I haven't even gotten you anything yet.  
[ _13:35_ ] **JPL** : Rest up, and I'll consider the favor repaid.  
[ _13:51_ ] **HERMES** : Consider it done. 

\ \ v / /

Mission Day 692

##### SUPPLEMENTAL: REQUEST ONE :: A Full Meal

Vincent is a man of his word. 

The commander floats me on the tether out to the Rec, which has gravity. Scant gravity at 0.2g but gravity all the same. The crew has gathered. We're eating together as a group. This is a change of pace. 

A full meal waits for me and the rest of the crew per Vincent's earmark. Not full rations. A full meal. For each of us. I feel grounded when I dig into the thermostabilized steak. The steak is served with dehydrated creamed spinach and a simple lettuce-and-tomato salad from plants grown in _Hermes_ ' hydroponics lab. Beck continued my low-g plant growth experiments in my absence, and guess who gets to reap the benefits?

The tomatoes I will grudgingly admit are delicious. On the small side of what an experienced plant-whisperer could do. But still: fresh tomatoes! In space! I eat around the seeds and save them in a little sample bag. When I'm back on duty, I can reseed the tomatoes and run the experiment in some new parameters based on what I learned on Mars. I think we can do better than low-g tomatoes. We can do _zero-g_ tomatoes.

Imagine an entire 211 day trip between Earth and Mars, with fresh heirloom tomatoes. Future Ares missions could grow their own food to-and-from the planet. Resupply missions will still be critical for non-perishable items, but imagine the freedom that could give future spaceflights.

When they're offered, I pass on the potatoes. 

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 693

The meal kicked loose some of the tension in the crew. We ate, we laughed, we gave each other a hard time. Vogel finds the tether _hilarious_ , and makes funnier and funnier cracks each time it comes up in conversation. He's dubbed it the Markenleine in German.

Between everyone's stories of _Hermes_ ' hasty return, I get to catch everyone up on my fearsome botany powers.

And it's, you know, good. The commander sees past the mistake that she _thinks_ she made into the present. We're getting there. Eventually, we'll arrive at a place where the commander won't look at me and see only her regrets. She'll see that I survived. Am surviving. And that is down to her reeling me back onboard the ship. Everyone helped make this possible, but she was the one who physically pulled my ass onto _Hermes_. That's what I'll remember about my commander.

Sorry, my throat's getting a little tight.

It's time to check sysops for today's chat uplink. Oh, and I need to thank Johanssen. She set up a tether for my laptop, so I won't have to ask her to manually deliver my email. It'll arrive right in my inbox. The wonders of modern technology! I suspect Vincent might know how that shook out. He probably put his grade-A sysops nerds on it. I love NASA.

\ \ v / /

[ _11:30_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. How was last night?  
[ _11:46_ ] **HERMES** : Hey Vincent. Dinner last night was fantastic. And thematic.  
[ _12:02_ ] **JPL** : I did advise them not to include potatoes…  
[ _12:18_ ] **HERMES** : No sweat. Martinez has a specific sense of humor. It was touching.  
[ _12:20_ ] **HERMES** : It was _really_ thoughtful. So, thanks. Can't wait to repay the favor.  
[ _12:36_ ] **JPL** : A photo would be sufficient.  
[ _12:52_ ] **HERMES** : I meant: to treat _you_ to dinner.  
[ _13:17_ ] **JPL** : Oh!  
[ _13:18_ ] **JPL** : Um, yes. I would look forward to that when you're back home.  
[ _13:19_ ] **JPL** : I have to duck out for a meeting.  
[ _13:20_ ] **JPL** : Rest up. 

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 696 

I have a hell of a chest ache. 

Sometimes I breathe in wrong and it just hurts. In zero-g, the ache happens less often than it would on Mars or Earth. Small victories! 

I'm in the harness right now. Johanssen and Beck have floated in the portable SCI unit and an experiment module from the hydroponics bay. The tomato experiment. The soil has been prepared for new seeds. Guys, I think someone out there really loves me. 

\ \ v / /

[ _10:40_ ] **HERMES** : I can't believe you got Mitch to agree to the portable SCI unit so quickly. Just...thanks, man.  
[ _11:00_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. It's the least I could do.  
[ _11:16_ ] **HERMES** : The least you could do is nothing. Something I've been wondering--why? Why you?  
[ _12:02_ ] **JPL** : People do everything for the same reason: to be doing something. I couldn't just stand there, while you were fighting for your life on Mars.  
[ _12:28_ ] **HERMES** : That's half of an answer.  
[ _12:44_ ] **JPL** : Ask me for the other half when you're back home. On Earth.  
[ _13:00_ ] **HERMES** : It's a date.  
[ _13:56_ ] **JPL** : I've plugged it into my calendar. Rest up.  


. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

Mission Day 700

##### SUPPLEMENTAL: REQUEST TWO :: Audio File from Mom

Wow. Didn't even put in a request for this one. Vincent shot me an email late last night. It contained an audio recording from my mom. Ten minutes of her delivering family news and well-wishes. 

I've listened to it five times now.

I won't tell mom this when I get home, but I cried when I heard her voice. We've emailed, but it's been nearly two years since I spoke to her. The last time we talked was when she called me during the pre-flight Quarantine. Back then, we talked about anything but Mars. We shot the shit about home repairs, the bushes growing over the back fence, the neighbor dogs that run around like maniacs when they hop their fence, how dad's getting on. You know, basic stuff that grounds you. The kind of routine details that allow you to keep your nerve when you're about to be strapped to 80,000 gallons of explosive fuel.

This time, everything she talks about drips with relief.

She's proud of me. She's proud that I survived Mars.

She hopes to god I'm not off potatoes forever, because she plans to make my favorite goddamn meal when I get home, and how could that be complete without Chicken Fricassee? Over her dead body is she going to make that dish without potatoes.

I cry again when she laughs. She says she'll change the recipe if I ask. Sweet potato and parsnips sound better anyway.

\ \ v / /

[ _10:00_ ] **HERMES** : How did you get a hold of my mom so quickly?  
[ _11:00_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. I contacted her directly after we received word the MAV rescue had succeeded. I would have sent the audio file earlier, but NASA wanted an assessment of your mental health before they sent it through.  
[ _11:16_ ] **HERMES** : Wow. I...don't remember any psychological assessments. Unless I've sustained _really_ bad head trauma.  
[ _11:32_ ] **JPL** : I may have...embellished the truth to move things along with Mitch and Teddy.  
[ _12:48_ ] **HERMES** : I'll do a psych eval if it makes your life easier.  
[ _13:04_ ] **JPL** : Thank you, it would.  
[ _13:20_ ] **HERMES** : Starting one right now. I'll get our resident computer nerd to backdate the file.  
[ _13:36_ ] **JPL** : Unnecessary, but it is appreciated.  
[ _14:20_ ] **HERMES** : _Nailed it_. According to NASA, I'm sane as _hell_.  
[ _14:36_ ] **JPL** : Duly noted.  
[ _14:40_ ] **JPL** : and thank you.  
[ _14:41_ ] **JPL** : Rest up.  


. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  **LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 705**

The worst of my bruising has healed up. I'm thin, bordering on gaunt. But I look healthier. I look like I'm recovering. Which means: it's photoshoot day!

The Rec room looks a treat right now. Beck and Johanssen shuffled the chairs off to the side. Vogel fetched his extra solar blanket. We've unrolled it and tacked it to the floor and the ceiling. The Rec room has a gorgeous view of the stars, but I have another idea in mind. The blanket will serve as the backdrop. We have rudimentary photo editing software.

Martinez has volunteered to edit in the appropriate background elements when we're done.

Commander Lewis pushes the last storage container into place. My photo op is ready.

Commander Lewis really didn't want to assist on this one, but I've been so well behaved. I've stayed on the medical tether, I haven't re-injured my ribs, and I've been providing soil sample analyses on the tomato experiment that draw on my unique experience. She didn't have the heart to say no.

She sets up the camera, and unclips me from the tether.

One photo for NASA coming right up.

\ \ v / /

[ _09:00_ ] **HERMES** : [ Hermes has attached a file to chat ]  
[ _09:50_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor.  
[ _10:06_ ] **HERMES** : Hey Vincent.  
[ _10:32_ ] **JPL** : Mark, we can't print this.  
[ _10:48_ ] **HERMES** : Shoot. Gosh darn. Martinez worked so hard on those period-accurate backdrops.  
[ _11:04_ ] **JPL** : I may request that you take the psych eval again.  
[ _11:14_ ] **JPL** : I'm kidding, but we still definitely can't print this.  
[ _11:08_ ] **JPL** : How are you doing?  
[ _11:28_ ] **HERMES** : Honestly? Awesome. A little sore. Doing pin-up poses isn't for those bruised at heart.  
[ _11:46_ ] **JPL** : I'm clearing the chat cache so Annie doesn't get her hands on this image. She's still pissed about "The Fonz" incident.  
[ _13:10_ ] **HERMES** : [ Hermes has attached a file to chat ]  
[ _13:36_ ] **JPL** : Oh, this one will work. The Mars backdrop is powerful. Commander Lewis' idea?  
[ _13:52_ ] **HERMES** : How could you tell?  
[ _14:08_ ] **JPL** : Your clothes are _on_.  
[ _14:24_ ] **HERMES** : Hey, I was partially clothed in the first one! I'll send it again to prove it.  
[ _14:40_ ] **JPL** : Mark, JPL logs all of the messages we send. I'm going to have to get Tim to work some fancy magic to disappear your original image on the server. _Do not send that image again unless you want it to be a part of public record_.  
[ _14:56_ ] **HERMES** : So if I wanted to send you something privately--  
[ _15:02_ ] **JPL** : Emails are the only private communication channel on Hermes. I am the final 'yea' or 'nay' for them, and sysops doesn't read your inbound email unless you open it in front of her.  
[ _15:18_ ] **HERMES** : Gotcha.  
[ _15:34_ ] **JPL** : Please also be mindful of your ribs. There's only so much a ship's medic can do for you if you aggravate your injury. Rest up and I'll talk to you tomorrow.  
.  
.  
.  
[ _17:34_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. Check your email.  


\ \ v / /

Mission Day 705

##### SUPPLEMENTAL: REQUEST THREE :: Digital Entertainment

Vincent sent me a mixtape. 

What he said he was sending was a selection of music from my stated likes list. The curation criteria seems to be based on how strongly I railed against Commander Lewis' taste in 70s hits and the entire Beatles discography that Johanssen left in the Hab. 

But what this _actually_ is, is a mixtape.

It's titled, OH GOD ANYTHING BUT DISCO.

 _Hermes_ ' upstream/downstream bandwidth is formidable, so this isn't your classic 90-minute 90s mixtape. This is eight hours of digital entertainment, broken up into 8 one-hour "themes". Some of my favorites are on here. Stuff that I enjoyed during my AssCan days when they made us job around the Houston campus at 4am in the morning. Stuff that I listened to back in grad school when I was working on my masters thesis. Stuff that blared over a stereo when I was fabricating mini-rovers in the garage.

Either Vincent has more free time on his hands than expected (doubtful), a fleet of attentive interns (extremely doubtful, this is NASA we're talking about), or he's been working on this mixtape for some time. Maybe since I first put in the request on Sol 115.

Huh.

You know what they say about a good hypothesis. It's only good science if it can stand up to repeated experimentation.

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

#### LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 708

NASA has calmed down since I left Mars. The meddling botany team has been scheduled to the Moon Mission. My tomato experiments don't require rigorous triple-checking. Now that my life isn't on the line, they're willing to concede that maybe there was a reason they hired me in the first place. It's been freeing.

And a little lonely.

I miss Steve Hillsteader. He was the leading botanist on NASA's Earth team. Steve: you're an asshole. My crops survived without any additional nitrogen-fixers, despite your insistence they wouldn't. That said, I'm not even being an asshole right now when I say: thanks for all of the entertainment on Mars, buddy.

I wish the time-delay between messages on Earth were shorter. 

16 minutes is a hell of a gap. 

A real mood-killer. Even when you have some sweet 90s jams to bridge the gap. 

The data dumps have taken a new turn. Vincent sends some network coverage along with a massive number of public well-wishes. **Mark Watney Survives Mars!** makes me sound like a pulp hero. _Mark Watney of Mars_. But, uh, the news segments are running out of new information. NASA's being relatively tight-lipped about _Hermes_ , since it's not just me on this ship. The crew's privacy matters. So now they're starting in on a dating show idea, starring me. A reality dating show where contestants compete for the hand of a "heroic but practical astronaut, firm jawline, crew-cut, Apollo 11 type". They don't want to wait until I get home. They're proposing to send the contestants to remote corners of the globe. Research stations. Desolate islands. A 180-day sea cruise. Contestants will record video segments about how hard their life is, and how much they appreciate the conveniences of civilization, and then NASA relays those video segments to me when _Hermes_ is in range of DSN. On my end, I record short video diaries for all of the contestants once a day, or once a week. Whatever my schedule allows. 

It's bonkers. 

They've pitched only female contestants. Setting that aside, how can you fall in love with an interview? 

Love isn't launching yourself into the unknown. Love is what helps you drag yourself back from the edge, step by step, day by day…

Request by request.

...More food for thought.

\ \ v / /

[ _09:40_ ] **HERMES** : NBC wants me to star in a reality dating show. They've already pre-selected contestants. 15 women signed on for this show. They've only seen me in an environment suit!  
[ _11:00_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. Annie thought it would provide positive exposure for NASA, and your workload would be minimal. Review 15 videos a couple times a week, make a one minute video back for each one. She explained it very carefully to me before I approved the communication.  
[ _11:17_ ] **HERMES** : You're not on board with the idea?  
[ _12:04_ ] **JPL** : I don't think yours is the kind of story that needs to be 'kept' in the spotlight. People are going to care about you, no matter which way the media spins your image. If you're considering it, just try not to be too difficult.  
[ _12:20_ ] **HERMES** : Reasonable. But nah, I'm going to pass on it. Not my scene.  
[ _12:36_ ] **JPL** : Elaborate?  
[ _12:52_ ] **HERMES** : Would you do it, in my place?  
[ _13:08_ ] **JPL** : No.  
[ _13:24_ ] **HERMES** : Why not?  
[ _13:41_ ] **JPL** : I'm interested in men.  
[ _13:48_ ] **JPL** : And my previous question?  
[ _13:57_ ] **HERMES** : I'm interested in one man currently.  
[ _14:13_ ] **JPL** : Oh god, Annie and Mitch are going to crucify me. Ah, look, I can get you the NASA form for intra-crew fraternization. We can get it on the books ASAP.  
[ _14:29_ ] **HERMES** : Vincent, he's not on the crew. Vogel only has eyes for his chemistry set, and Beck only has eyes for Johanssen.  
[ _14:45_ ] **JPL** : Is it Tim…?  
[ _15:01_ ] **HERMES** : For a PhD, you are denser than expected. But I can work with that.  
[ _15:17_ ] **JPL** : ...Oh. OH.  
[ _15:33_ ] **HERMES** : Email me sometime when you're off the clock. I'm going to rest up. See you tomorrow.  


\ \ v / /

#####  [System Time 23:30 HST :: MD 708] 

To whom it may concern at NBC,

Thanks for your consideration. However, I am declining your offer for "Earth's Most Eligible Bachelor." As it turns out, I may already have a date!

If you're interested in another pitch, have you considered a courtroom drama about MARITIME LAW?

Cordially,  
Mark Watney  
_Mars Actual_

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  **LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 709**

Wow. I wasn't expecting to jump to direct confirmation so quickly. Have I pushed things too fast? Botany's all about moving, understanding, and implementing plans on something else's time scale. You prepare the soil, you seed it, you water it, you pray that you've provided the best possible circumstances to give rise to something _new_. Shit. I hope I didn't rush past the preparation phase. 

That's how you get runty tomatoes.

And it's also how you don't get second dates.

(Ask me how I know _that one_! There's a reason I'm 43 and single and it's not because I've been on Mars. I've only been on Mars for two years.) 

\ \ v / /

#####  [System Time 20:12 HST :: MD 709] 

Mark, writing you under these circumstances is harder than I expected. I'm not sure what to say.  
\--Vincent

Rip the band-aid off! I can take a hike (and a hint).  
\--Mark

Mark, would you consider re-sending the picture I deleted from chat?  
\--Vincent

My pleasure.  
📎 MarkWatney--BettiePage01.jpg  
📎 MarkWatney--BettiePage02.jpg  
📎 MarkWatney--BettiePage03.jpg  
📎 MarkWatney--BettiePage04.jpg  
\--Mark

Mark, thank you. These are....enlightening.  
\--Vincent

Hell yeah. Okay. Let's start with this: that date you scheduled with me, after I get back to Earth. Would you like that to be a date-date. Or strictly business between two scientists that engineered the shit out of Mars?  
\--Mark

My preference would be a date-date, as you put it.  
\--Vincent

Good. If I survive the rest of this journey, it's a date-date as soon as I'm cleared to return to Houston.  
\--Mark

Mark, that's great. To anticipate your next question, no, my willingness to date-date you will not induce me to tell the botany team to fuck off. I'd rather let you do that in person. It'll mean more coming directly from you.  
\--Vincent

Vincent, you're sort of a bastard.  
\--Mark

Mark, thank you for noticing.  
\--Vincent 

I'm all tweaked up from adrenaline, and this may be all of my _great problem solving knowhow_ talking, but have you ever considered being the first Mars Mission Director to sext in space?  
\--Mark

Mark, no. God no. No, it would be a disaster. There's no way NASA wouldn't find out. Email's private up to a point, but…?  
No. Absolutely not.  
It's just not a possibility we should entertain, given our respective positions and the potential for scandal if anything slipped through the great NASA email filter.  
It's not like I have a brilliant sysops engineer who'd be willing to cover my tracks.  
…  
\--Vincent

It sounds like you've talked yourself into it.  
\--Mark

Mark, maybe. I--okay. Yes. Not tonight, though. Soon.  
\--Vincent

Looking forward to it, _Mission Director Kapoor_. (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡  
Hahaha, that was something I couldn't do with _Pathfinder_. Isn't technology grand?  
\--Mark

Goodnight Mark. Rest up.  
\--Vincent

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  **LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 712**

The tomatoes are thriving under my care in their little experimentation box. Beck is green with jealousy, I'm sure.

Today, by previous arrangement with Vincent, we will be exchanging email instead of our usual text conversation. He's on RDO. He's at home, plugging into the NASA system through an encrypted VPN. Which means that our email conversation won't be logged.

After making a pest of myself in hydroponics, sysops, and the Rec, the commander has ordered me to clip into the harness and sleep.

No one's going to bother me for a solid eight hours.

(Fuck yeah, privacy. I didn't realize how much I'd miss having the Hab utterly to myself.)

Let's get this show on the road.

\ \ v / /

#####  [System Time 12:12 HST :: MD 712] 

I've effectively banished myself to my quarters. No one's going to bother me for the next eight hours. You?  
\--Mark

I'm at home alone. It's surprising how little time I've spent indoors here. Today I discovered a room hadn't been opened since I took over the MisOps position in Houston. Understand, it's not a large house, even for one person.  
Mark, What's the protocol for sexting?  
\--Vincent

Do what you've always done with me on Mars: anticipate my possible needs and reactions, and then say or do what you think I'll find hot in the moment. If you're wrong, that's more data you can add to your mental inventory. If you're right, we can get each other off. We've got a time delay of 14 minutes between messages, so we'll just have to work with that for now.  
\--Mark

I wish you were closer to Earth.  
I don't think you've ever seen a picture of me?  
\--Vincent

I haven't. That's weird, right? You're the MisOps. You'd think we would have met before I left with _Ares 3_.  
We're still too far away to sync up for streaming, so. Short video clip incoming.  
📎 MarkWatney--Interested-but-not-too-interested.mp4 0:15  
\--Mark

Strong opener. However, I think my "direct communication" directive was unclear. We're going to need to workshop this problem with NASA and transmit our new instructions more slowly.  
\--Vincent

You are a _huge_ bastard. Is it weird that turns me on?  
Also, hey, I found a picture of you in the public relations informational packet that NASA sent a few months back. There's a picture of you here doing the crossed-arms visionary stance. It's flattering but not _too_ flattering? You look like you've put in a few hard months before they snapped this photo.  
\--Mark

Yes, a few hard months. That was the briefing after we lost _Iris_. Even a disaster with no casualties takes a toll.  
...I honestly can't tell if you're a sadist or a masochist; it has to be one or the other.  
\--Vincent

Masochist. Definitely masochist.  
You can't hear me laughing--so before we go off the rails--I mean that only in a colloquial way. Life sure would have been easier if I could have got off on everything Mars threw at me.  
\--Mark

Let's see if I did this right.  
📎 VKapoor--standing-at-attention.mp4 0:08  
\--Vincent

Oh shit, that was hot. Wow. Um. Could you move your hand into frame? I want to see you touching yourself.  
\--Mark

Request pending while I update the queue.  
📎 VKapoor--as-requested-a-hand-is-in-frame.mp4 0:20  
\--Vincent

You're a natural at this. Your sexy talk is really doing it for me. Only way this could be better is if there were a chart.  
📎 MarkWatney--Way-interested-in-this.mp4 0:07  
📎 MarkWatney--Keeping-up-the-pace.mp4 0:30  
\--Mark

Are things going too fast or too slow for you? The time delay makes me wonder how effective drawing things out would be.  
📎 VKapoor--manual-stimulation.mp4 2:45  
📎 VKapoor--stimulation-vs-time-graph--v1.0.xlsx  
\--Vincent

Oh my god. _Oh my god_. Vincent, how did a troll like you ever hide in plain sight. So while I'm off-world, you'll agree to any request, within reason? What about when I get back to Earth?  
What do you want _right now_?  
\--Mark

It's all in the job title. The Director of the Mars Mission's duty is to see to the safety and fulfillment of any off-world crew.  
When you're back on Earth, you may still have requests pending that I would do my best to fulfill. After that, as an earthbound crewmember, you might be obligated to fulfill the requests of your MisOps Director, within reason.  
As for right now… a picture of your face?  
\--Vincent 

Here's my mug!  
📎 MarkWatney--Friction-good.mp4 0:20  
📎 MarkWatney--Right-up-to-the-edge.mp4 0:45  
📎 MarkWatney--Technically-you-can-see-my-face-at-the-end.mp4 1:30  
📎 MarkWatney--The-End-Of-Five-Hours-Of-Teasing.jpg  
📎 MarkWatney--Smiling.jpg  
\--Mark

That was punishing. I hope we can do this again soon. Goodnight Mark. Rest up.  
📎 VKapoor--mission-complete.mp4 0:58  
\--Vincent 

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  **LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 714**

In other news, I got an email from _Mission Director Vincent Kapoor_. He reminded me that while our email is private, mission logs will become NASA property once the mission is over. 

So let me just say that _Mission Director Vincent Kapoor_ is a consummate professional who has provided me with invaluable assistance. He's been instrumental in transmitting unasked-for but highly-beneficial team opinions on my botany experiments.

Records will show that I have received many such messages from Mission Director Vincent Kapoor over the past five hundred days. He handled all of our direct communication on Mars and on _Hermes_. When you review my mission logs, you will no doubt note that our communications have always maintained a level of professional discretion that does credit to NASA's mission in space. For example, he has never once allowed me to tell the Earthside botany team to go fuck themselves. You should probably promote him for that. 

This is Mark Watney, scientist slash botanist, signing off. 

\ \ v / /

[ _09:40_ ] **HERMES** : I think you'll be proud of the level of professionalism I've reached in my mission logs thanks to your email.  
[ _10:00_ ] **JPL** : Mark, this is Vincent Kapoor. I'm glad that you understood the spirit in which that email was sent.  
[ _10:20_ ] **HERMES** : Loud and clear.  
[ _10:42_ ] **JPL** : I've approved another request today. Vogel and Beck have rigged up a low-grav shower stall in the Rec.  
[ _10:58_ ] **HERMES** : Sweet! Wait, I don't remember requesting that.  
[ _11:14_ ] **JPL** : The entire crew requested it on your behalf.  
[ _11:30_ ] **HERMES** : Makes sense. Beck said I smell like a skunk loved up on someone's gym socks.  
[ _11:46_ ] **JPL** : That image certainly leaves an impression.  
.  
.  
.  
[ _13:30_ ] **JPL** : Rest up. I'll get in contact later.  


\ \ v / /

Mission Day 714

##### SUPPLEMENTAL: REQUEST FOUR :: A Low-Grav Shower

Being in space as long as I have, there's a point you reach where you forgot how grimey everything feels. Layers of Martian dust and sweat start to feel like a second skin. 

It's pretty gross. 

Luckily, I now have the entire crew's request to thank for the shower that Vincent managed to arrange. Beck found some large, person-sized extensible plastic covering for hydroponics. We'd use those coverings for the tomato plants if we manage to coax them to grow beyond the seedling stage. In the low gravity of the Rec, water will fall to the ground. (Unlike that stunt I pulled in Beck's quarters after I'd been reeled in by the commander.) The plastic tubing will keep stray water droplets contained. Water can travel an impressive distance in 0.2gs. 

So the procedure is this: I untether and then strip. I get into position in the makeshift shower. The plastic tubing is raised around me. Another set of plastic tubing will be dropped from overhead. The two sides will be laced together with some thin chemical tubing that Vogel uses for titrations. This will seal me (mostly) inside. And it'll free up the rest of the crew. No one will have to hold the shower up, like they have to do on zero-g showers. 

A hose will be run from the water system in hydroponics out to the Rec, and draped into the shower. The water pressure won't be great, so I'll use the hose to wet my skin, then scrub with the exfoliant that we usually use under dry conditions. I'll repeat that procedure multiple times. Until everyone around me starts breathing without pinching their faces in dismay. Or until I feel raw. 

Whichever comes first. I'm excited to find out which! 

...I'm absolutely thrilled that no one that I _care about_ will get to witness this shower, or the smell that I will be banishing. 500 Sols of Martian grime is _pungent_ . 

\ \ v / /

#####  [System Time 20:12 HST :: MD 714] 

Mark, I hope you found the shower satisfactory. By all reports, the crew has been pleased with the outcome.  
\--Vincent 

Ayup. It was pretty satisfying. Everyone was so happy for the lack of smell, no one gave me a hard time for streaking.  
\--Mark 

Excellent. It's late here, and I suspect you've had a full day. I look forward to conversing with you again soon. Rest up.  
\--Vincent

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

#####  [System Time 20:12 HST :: MD 725] 

Oh shit, I think I finally understand something. Why you sign off with "Rest up" for all of our communications. It's because it's hard to say the other things. It's hard to say:  
"I care about you, and I don't want you to be hurt."  
"I care about you more than I can tell, and I hope you know that."  
\--Mark

Mark, that would be accurate.  
I also hope you are resting up. A body needs to recover properly after an ordeal. A permanent injury that restricts your movement benefits no one, especially if you want to requalify for a later mission.  
\--Vincent

I could think of something else our bodies could do.  
\--Mark

I'm always open to suggestions.  
\--Vincent

I have this fantasy where I'm sucking you off. It's kind of more like a daydream, because I think we're also space pirates? We're somewhere with bulkheads.  
\--Mark

Somewhere comfortable?  
\--Vincent 

Supply closet. I think you're seated on one of those bumpy rations containers that can survive a drop through the Martian atmosphere. But that's good, because it means that once you get a grip on the side of the container, we're not going to break it, no matter how hard I push you into it.  
And you do. Push into it. You kind of lose it. God, the way you look with your head thrown back. It's… a really good dream.  
\--Mark 

Mark, your request has been noted and is pending your arrival on earth. _Rest up_.  
📎 VKapoor--my-interest-is-piqued.mp4 4:50  
\--Vincent

Oh shit. Thanks. Uh, this is good. Really good. I think I will _rest up_ now. Sleep well, Vincent.  
\--Mark

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

#### LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 740

Today's the day! After a rigorous medical checkup and a mini-physical on the Rec's treadmill, Beck has officially released me for active duty on the Ares III crew. You know what that means! Sorry Vogel, I am officially off the medical tether. You will no longer be able to track me through the ship by the Markenleine.

I now hold the record for _longest successful space convalescence_ in NASA history. So maybe I can't say, "in your face, Scott Kelly" about this, but yeah, in your face, Scott Kelly. The goal for the rest of the flight is to build muscle tone, gain back to my original weight, and survive.

On the bright side, I can look forward to the NASA Medical Stipend when I return to Earth. I'll have to submit to 365 Sols worth of medical debriefing and biweekly physicals, but it might just be worth it.

Now that I'm cleared for _duty_ , one of the first things I'm going to do is inspect the VAL. _Hermes_ breached the ship in order to rescue me, and they got the air back, so clearly someone did something right, but I've been itching to take a look at it for myself. Wouldn't want the ship to re-breach once we hit Earth Insertion Orbit.

After I take a tour of all of the engineering marvels the tether has kept me away from, it's going to be time to evaluate the tomatoes.

They've finally flowered!

On Earth, tomatoes have a quick grow cycle. Vegetative growth for 14 days, and then flowering between Days 25 to Day 35. Fruit growth by Day 40. In zero-g, the tomatoes aren't receiving the same kinds of signals that they rely on for growth. So all bets are off when we're attempting to cultivate them in space.

The tomatoes were planted on Mission Day 696. Today is Tomato Day 44. The first buds have opened. So they're only about twenty days behind schedule. Those past twenty days were pretty significant in terms of figuring out what would encourage them to grow in a more Earth-like pattern in zero-g. Vogel and I engineered a scaffolding for the tomatoes, and we simulated the factors on earth that encourage a planet to grow a strong, thick stem using fans and other non-gravity directional cues. The seedlings got the message and began to grow towards the main source of light. Which, in a tomato's world, means _up_.

Tomatoes are one of the ideal space crops because they're self-pollinating. External pollinators are not strictly speaking necessary, but in zero-g and low-g, _something_ has to shake the male and the female reproductive parts together to make the plant fruit. Which means I'm going to go grab the experiment boxes and go _dancing with myself_.

And I don't mean that in the Billy Idol way. Not this time. I'm going to shake those little tomato plants and get the pollination station started.

\ \ v / /

##### [System Time 20:12 HST :: MD 740]

I spent three hours dancing with tomato plants today in zero-g. Damn, that pollen did not want to dislodge. Is NASA still planning a Mars colony for the Ares V mission? If you are, consider inventing robot bees. Your colonists will thank you for it.  
\--Mark

Mark, I will pass your insights along to the botany team.  
\--Vincent

Is that a threat? I kind of imagine you saying that like a threat. It gets me a little hot and bothered. That may just be the space sweat talking, though.  
\--Mark

It is partially a threat, only because I know how fond you are of them.  
\--Vincent

Get stuffed, Vincent.  
\--Mark

You first.  
\--Vincent

Is that a promise???  
\--Mark

Maybe. Congratulations, again, on returning to duty. I'm pleased to hear that you've healed up well.  
\--Vincent

Thank you. Rest up, Vincent. I'll talk to you tomorrow.  
\--Mark

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

#### LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 750

It's happening! I checked the experiment box today, and the first fruit have set on the tomato plants! Small green tomatoes are bunched so close together they look like Martian grapes. Which gives me a proposal for a genetic experiment that I will float past the slip-and-snip bio-engineers that I knew back on Earth.

There's no telling how long it will take for the tomatoes to ripen. Earth standard is about 20 days of fruit growth and another 20 for ripening. 40 days' time. Which would put it on Mission Day 790.

Mmm. I've been looking forward to that day for _a very particular reason_. That's when we drop below the transmission threshold for video conferencing.

The crew have all scheduled their private time in sysops. I'm on the schedule for the last block. The crew razzed me pretty hard for calling home, and were a bit surprised to hear that I'd be calling Mission Control instead. I said it was a pre-PR test flight to see if I am presentable enough to be interviewed. Can't say the crew bought that one. Martinez gave me that knowing head-nod. Yeah. I guess I have been pretty damn enthusiastic about Mission Day 790.

When we're Earthside, I'm sure the crew will get a big kick out of my secrecy. It's not like we aren't in this together! We're something more than a mission to Mars.

We're _space pirates_.

\ \ v / /

##### [System Time 21:20 HST :: MD 750]

The tomatoes are fruiting! All those 90s slow jams did the trick.  
\--Mark

Mark, congratulations! I look forward to reading your reports on the zero-g experiment. Just imagine what that might mean for future _Ares_ missions!  
\--Vincent

God, this almost makes me wish I could sign on for _Ares 5_.  
\--Mark

You could, you know. Sign on to _Ares 5_. You're the golden boy of NASA right now. They wouldn't say no to you. Granted, you would have to requalify for mission status after the battery of post-mission psychological evaluations.  
\--Vincent

It's a tempting offer. But I think this space pirate has had enough adventure for one lifetime. I am planning to return home, move into my mom's shed, and paper-mache my way through my experiences on Mars.  
\--Mark

You're joking.  
\--Vincent

I am joking. I always saw myself more of an acre of land and a corn patch kind of guy.  
Enough talk about the future!  
I'm curious about how _you've_ been. Commander Lewis said you've been looking pretty haggard in your daily briefings with her. Do you need some...cheering up?  
\--Mark

It's been a trying time. Statistically speaking, you're in the most danger you've ever been. When you were on Mars, aside from the impending starvation, you were relatively safe.  
I've been running scenarios with the whole Project Elrond crowd. Rich Purnell is fairly adamant than blowing the VAL didn't compromise _Hermes_ , and that barring further catastrophe, the rest of the trip back to Earth should be uneventful.  
\--Vincent

Oh dang, well, that's one knockfor me. I should get better at the sexy banter.  
I hear your worries. We're fine so far; and we intend to stay that way.  
I'm looking forward to the video call on MD 790. We're scheduled for the last shift, 21:00 HST.  
\--Mark

I am looking forward to it too. Very much.  
\--Vincent

The ground rules for the video call are: no talk about explosive decompression.  
Unless its the sexy kind.  
That's it, those are the rules.  
\--Mark

That is simple enough. I will do my best. Rest up, Mark.  
\--Vincent

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  **LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 790**

Today's the day! 21:00 HST.

I wish we hadn't run out of mousse.

Today's the day! The tomatoes have ripened and the first ones are ready for harvest. Oh fuck. I wonder if Vincent likes Italian? We could totally go for Italian when I'm back.

\ \ v / /

Mission Day 790

##### SUPPLEMENTAL: REQUEST FIVE :: A Video Chat

I'm deleting this log after I make it. Over my dead body will NASA get their hands on this. But let me just say: _wow_. I may have gotten a little overeager at the end there, but I think that Vincent and I really are on the same page. It's. Huh. It's a little bit frightening. Every time I feel like we're rushing forward into unknown territory, he's waiting there for me. I still haven't told him how I openly wept when I discovered that _Pathfinder_ had acquired Earth telemetry.

We'd maneuvered ourselves onto the last call of shift. Most of the crew were already in their quarters, and Johanssen was doing her daily 5 miles in the Rec. No one would drop in on us. 

Even with that level of privacy, I kept things as PG as possible.

Vincent and I exchanged brief summaries of our current assignments. He asked about the tomatoes; I asked about the _Ares 4_ planning. We danced around each other as best we could. We still had a minute-and-a-half delay between a message and a response. It led to at least one misunderstanding, and we laughed it off. I got to hear Vincent laugh in near-real time. What a thrill that was!

I asked about his opinion on Italian food, and he wondered if I'd enjoy Indian. Thai was good too, we decided. So was Japanese. We're going to need more than one date to sort out our culinary preferences.

It was a short conversation.

I already want to do it again.

\ \ v / /

#####  [System Time 23:25 HST :: MD 790] 

Mark, I had a lovely time this evening.  
\--Vincent 

You were sexy as hell tonight.  
It was a struggle. My life is a struggle.  
I keep thinking about how I want to rake my fingers through your beard.  
\--Mark 

Mark, you're not so hard on the eyes either.  
\--Vincent 

Oooh, buddy. You have no idea.  
📎 MarkWatney--all-worked-up.mp4 0:35  
📎 MarkWatney--and-nowhere-to-go.mp4 0:50  
📎 MarkWatney--just-gonna-have-to.mp4 1:00  
📎 MarkWatney--keep-dancing-with-myself.mp4 3:00  
\--Mark 

I'm starting to get the picture.  
📎 VKapoor--unzipped.mp4 2:35  
\--Vincent 

I want to ride that. Yep. It's official. This is one mission that I want to be on ASAP.  
\--Mark

We have so much to talk about when you get home.  
Wherever home is to you.  
📎 VKapoor--undone.mp4 0:55  
\--Vincent

You know, that's a good question. I had the Hab, and now I have _Hermes_. Without NASA, I don't know where home might be.  
But you know, we're two logistical geniuses. I'm sure we can figure something out.  
📎 MarkWatney--coming-home.mp4 0:25  
\--Mark

I'll put my best people on it.  
\--Vincent

Copy that.  
Gotta hit the sack. Rest up, Vincent.  
\--Mark

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

####  **LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 896**

Two days until we reach an Earth insertion orbit. 

So here's the situation. I'm almost home. Everyone knows I'm alive. I'm in a spaceship designed to carry the entire _Ares_ mission sequence into the next decade. The scariest, most dangerous part of the descent is coming up. We transfer off _Hermes_ into a specialized Earth Descent Vehicle (EDV) and Martinez aims us at the Pacific ocean. 

We will hit the atmosphere at hypersonic speeds. If the EDV breaks down, we'll disintegrate in the atmosphere. LOV during re-entry hasn't happened in thirty-odd years, but final descent is by no means _safe_. 

If we make it, we'll splash down off the California coast. The capsule is buoyant for 12 hours. We'll wait to be extracted from the capsule by the nearest recovery vessel. Usually a vessel's only in the water for 30 minutes before the crew is recovered, but there have been some _long waits_ when the seas get rough. 

Vincent, I hope you're praying for me. I could use luck from anyone who's willing to spare some. 

. . . ■ ■ ■ . . .

Dappled sunlight fell through the trees as the morning light spread over the slumbering Houston campus. Soon enough, it would be buzzing with activity as the Ares 5 AssCans looped through the central park to complete their daily five miles. Mark Watney found a bench in an ideal location and sat there. 

The campus hadn't changed as much as he thought it would in the two and a half years he'd been off-planet. There were a few new saplings, and a new bronze commemorative plaque that had been hastily re-engraved. _In memoriam_ changed to _in memorandum_ . Mark Watney, Survivor of Mars. By design, he couldn't see the plaque from his current spot. 

He wanted somewhere with a view of the Mission Control Center. 

It was too early to head into security. Too early to find the directory. Too early to wander into the Mars Mission Director's office, and plant himself there, feet up on the desk, waiting for Mission Director Kapoor to clock in. In their last email, Vincent said he was usually at the office by 8am. That was an hour from now. 

But they already had a date to meet: tomorrow, at a local Italian joint where the only starches on the menu were pasta. Neither Vicent nor Mark hadn't expected for him to be released from Quarantine so quickly, so… 

Technically, Mark was at liberty to spend the day however he wished. 

He was _rushing_ . He could feel it. Fear gripped his heart. 

Mark suddenly became aware of the fact that he wasn't alone. He twisted around and shaded his eyes. Vincent was standing behind the bench, watching the same view that Mark had been soaking in.

"Wow, you're a lot hotter than I expected," Mark said, dazed. "Cameras do not do you justice." 

"I knew you'd be here," Vincent said quietly. "It's what I'd do if I were back on Earth, trying to get my bearings. I would sit in front of the place I knew I had to go, and think about all of the dangers that going there might entail. Hello, Mark." 

"It's a little unnerving when you do that," Mark joked, as he slid over on the bench to make room for Vincent to join him.

"Space isn't half as dangerous as love," Vincent confided. He joined Mark on the bench, sitting just far enough apart to be casual...but then he bumped his knee up against Mark's, and Mark's head swam. Gravity made everything from walking to brushing his teeth feel blunted and dull. But not that. _That_ he felt sharply.

Mark swallowed. "This might be a little out of our league, but I was thinking we could try some small talk." 

"Small talk's good," Vincent agreed, settling on the bench. "So, Mark Watney, Hero of Mars, what are your plans for the future?"

" _That's_ your idea of smalltalk? Okay. Hmm." Mark mock-considered his options. He'd been thinking non-stop about what he wanted to do when he got back to Earth; he'd made lists and drawn up schedules. "Space agencies want to know what happens when you lock people in a box without privacy, regular sleep, or decent food, but they sure as shit don't want to let the rest of us know how that works out. I was thinking I'd change that a bit. Write a book about my experiences about being alone. Talk about what it's like to feel your isolation when you can't escape your conditions." 

"On Mars?"

"On the trip back on _Hermes_." Mark broke into laughter as Vincent's eyebrows crept up. "With some generous editorial gaps. What happened in email, stays in email." 

Vincent laid his hand out on his own knee, palm up and Mark slid his hand into Vincent's. 

"What now?" Vincent asked airily. "Are you ready for another adventure?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking it might be nice to spend a lazy day in bed."

"By yourself?"

Mark smiled. "It is said no plan survives first contact with implementation." He paused, and continued much more hesitantly: "I think--and MisOps will have to confirm whether it's a go or not--I still have a request pending."

Vincent gazed back at him, rubbing his thumb over the back of Mark's knuckles. "Welcome home, Mark Watney. Your final request has been granted."

Vincent turned on the bench, and drew Mark in for a long kiss. They lingered there in the dappled sunlight, soaking in the luxury of simple touch, until it became imperative that they seek out private accomodations. Vincent stood first and stretched. The question before them was plain. They'd have to talk logistics soon: who was staying where; how reasonable it was for Mark to stay in Houston while JPL clamored to debrief him; if Mark was going to have to start grocery shopping in a tall collar jacket and sunglasses to avoid the ravenously curious public. All problems for later. Mark Watney blinked up at Vincent and thought muzzily about the dream of two hundred and eleven days. He was home finally.

...And _hell yes_ , he was ready for his next adventure.


End file.
